Chapter 9: The Billionaire's Breakfast
Julian
I woke up at 6:00 AM, a habit ingrained in me from years of early morning global market calls. But today, there were no stock updates to check, no mergers to negotiate.
Today, my only objective was my family.
I showered, dressed in a casual black cashmere sweater and dark jeans I had Marcus overnight courier to the local post office, and headed downstairs.
The inn's kitchen was massive, industrial but warm, with copper pots hanging from the ceiling. Audrey was nowhere to be seen, but the sounds of early morning cartoons drifted from the living room.
I found Leo and Lucas sitting on the floor in their pajamas, watching a brightly colored animated show.
"Good morning," I said softly, leaning against the doorframe.
Two identical pairs of gray eyes darted to me.
"Hi Julian," Lucas chirped. "Mama is outside talking to the wood man."
"The wood man?" I asked, stepping into the room.
"Firewood," Leo corrected with a tiny, serious frown. "It gets cold. We need wood."
"Ah, I see," I smiled, my chest tightening with an overwhelming surge of affection for these tiny, brilliant creatures. "Well, since your mom is busy, who wants breakfast?"
Ten minutes later, I was entirely out of my depth. I could orchestrate a hostile corporate takeover in my sleep, but deciphering the pancake mix instructions on the back of a cardboard box felt like disarming a bomb.
"You need an egg," Leo advised from his perch on a barstool, swinging his little legs.
"Right. Egg," I muttered, grabbing one from the fridge. I cracked it on the side of the bowl, misjudging my own strength. The shell shattered completely, dropping gooey yolk and jagged white fragments into the batter.
"Oh dear," Lucas giggled, covering his mouth with a chubby hand.
"A minor setback," I declared, grabbing a spoon to fish out the shells.
We were laughing—actually laughing, a sound I hadn't made in four years—when the kitchen door swung open.
Audrey froze in her tracks. Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold morning air, her auburn hair slightly messy. She stared at the scene: the billionaire CEO of Foster Meridian covered in flour, awkwardly trying to flip a slightly burned pancake while her sons cheered him on.
Her expression was entirely unreadable.
"What is going on here?" she asked, her voice guarded.
"Julian is making pan-cakes!" Lucas announced proudly. "But he broke the egg really bad."
I offered Audrey a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I'm afraid my culinary skills are severely lacking. But we're managing."
Audrey walked over, taking the spatula from my hand. Our fingers brushed, and I saw her physically shiver. "Sit down, Julian. Before you burn my kitchen to the ground."
I took a seat next to my sons, watching Audrey move gracefully around the kitchen, fixing my disastrous batter. For a fleeting, beautiful moment, it felt like we were a normal family.
But as I watched her, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.
May you like
It was a text from Marcus: Sir, the board is threatening a vote of no confidence if you don't return by Friday. Madison's legal team is also making noise again regarding her NDA.
My blood ran cold. The ghosts of the empire I left behind were already hunting me down.
